


these little things define us

by Lise



Series: Remember This Cold [25]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (or rather my version of it), Conversations, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Weird Friendships??, moving forward maybe, short breathing room fic before diving into the next long installment of this verse, what do i tag this it's basically people talking about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki defines a new normal, and has a few necessary conversations with some old faces (and a few new ones). Takes place post-"Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	these little things define us

**Author's Note:**

> I knew as I wrapped up "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me" that it needed a follow up fic for the things I couldn't fit into the thing itself. This is that fic, and while I'm not quite sure I achieved what I was hoping to, I achieved something. Let this also serve as the announcement that I have started work on the next full length installment of this series which I am really excited about, and it is already over 8000 words and not even close to halfway done. So it may be a bit. 
> 
> In the meantime, think about Loki and Bucky being weird friends. Just think about it.
> 
> With love and gratitude to my faithful beta, [zaataronpita](http://zaataronpita.tumblr.com). I'm lucky to have her.

“Hey,” Sam Wilson said cheerfully, standing outside Loki’s door and carrying a paper bag. Loki stared at him, blankly.

His first reaction was to say, “The Captain is not here right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wilson said amiably. “I was just talking to him. On the phone.” Loki felt a bit of suspicion that must have shown on his face, because Wilson hastened to add, “He didn’t send me to check on you, or anything. This is all my idea.”

 _An odd one,_ Loki restrained himself from saying, and instead said nothing at all, letting a skeptical expression speak for him. Wilson did not seem overly troubled by his reticence.

“So, anyway…you going to invite me in? I brought takeout.”

After a moment, Loki stepped back from the door and opened it a touch wider. “You seem to have invited yourself effectively enough,” he murmured. Wilson snorted and stepped inside. He held out the bag.

“I asked Steve for recommendations. It’s Thai.”

Loki took it, almost gingerly. Wilson did not seem the type to try to threaten or attack him, but he had not seemed to like Loki much either, and the purpose of this visit quite escaped him. “If I may ask,” he said, “what is the occasion?”

“The occasion is nothing in particular,” Wilson said, taking one of the seats at the kitchen counter and looking around. “Wow, nice place.”

 _Delighted my gilded cage is to your liking,_ Loki thought, but did not say. That was uncharitable, and unnecessarily rude besides. He inclined his head instead in polite acknowledgment and stayed where he was, a comfortable distance away. “Do you frequently drop by strangers’ abodes with offerings of food?”

“No,” Wilson said, “not usually. But I wouldn’t really call you a stranger at this point. Acquaintance, maybe. And I’m trying to get to know all of Steve’s people.”

 _Steve’s people._ It was strange to be classed like that. Loki wondered if it was appropriate, and he supposed it was, after a fashion. He doubted the Avengers would much appreciate being lumped in with him, however. “I see.”

“Are you always this terse or am I just lucky?” Wilson asked, voice wry, and Loki felt his lips press together.

“Probably just lucky. My loquacious best isn’t always enjoyable for the other party.”

“Fair enough.” Wilson put his elbows on the counter and nodded at the bag. “Are you going to eat any of that? Because I could really use some Pad Thai if you didn’t mind sharing.”

Loki set the bag down on the counter and began pulling out cartons that were still warm. He hadn’t been eating much, but his appetite stirred in interest at the smells wafting even just from the closed containers. He found the Pad Thai and pushed it in Wilson’s direction, along with a fork. “Enjoy.”

Wilson took the carton and fork with a nod of thanks. “I’m not going to eat all of this – maybe a plate, too?” He said, and after a moment’s consideration Loki flicked his fingers and simply summoned one from the cabinet to land in front of Wilson, who stared at it for a moment and then shrugged and began dishing up his noodles. Loki stayed standing on the other side of the counter, tense and uncertain. There was a point to this, he was sure, but he didn’t know what it was.

“You can relax, man,” Wilson said, not looking up from his plate. “I’m not here to threaten grisly retribution or test you or whatever you think I’m going to do. I don’t think Steve needs a shotgun dad.”

Loki felt a prickle between his shoulder blades. “It would not be terribly effective, anyway.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured. You as stubborn as Steve is?”

Loki had not had it framed that way before. He half smiled. “I would say more than, but I’ve had more experience.”

“Yeah, that’s what I hear. Immortal aliens and everything.” Wilson shook his head, but with a bit of a smile. “How about that.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Not what you were expecting?”

“I wasn’t expecting, full stop. Was never much of a believer.” Wilson sat back in his chair, seeming to be considering Loki again, in that oddly perceptive way that made his skin crawl.

“Well?” he asked, not quite sharply, after a moment.

“Well what?”

“Whatever you say, you’ve been inspecting me nearly since we met. Have you come to a verdict yet?” He could hear the taut, testy note in his own voice and wished it weren’t there, but his temper was too short to iron it out.

“Not really trying to come to any verdict,” Wilson said. “You’re just an interesting guy.”

“Am I,” Loki said blandly.

“Yeah,” Wilson said. “You are.” Wilson took a bite of noodles and chewed before continuing. “We – him and me, I mean – didn’t have a whole lot of time to just talk, but he talked about you some.”

Loki wasn’t sure what the bizarre feeling in his chest was. “Did he.”

“Yeah.” Wilson propped his chin on one hand, looking at him. “I think it must’ve been a relief, talking to someone who’s not, you know, officially an Avenger. Sounds to me like he’s pretty crazy about you.”

Loki’s heart did something strange between a thud and a leap. He kept his expression blank. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“Not really, no,” Wilson said, dropping his hand and taking another forkful of noodles. “Just saying, you know? This stuff with Barnes shook him up bad, but it doesn’t mean…”

Loki felt himself tense again. “Doesn’t mean what?”

“Nothing, just thinking aloud.” Wilson raised his eyebrows a little. “Touchy, touchy.”

Loki felt the urge to snap and bit it back. Wilson was not the target of his anger. There wasn’t one, really, which was perhaps the problem. He took a breath through his nose and said carefully, “You will forgive me. I have not had the best of months.”

“It’s fine,” Wilson said. “Just don’t do any weird magic stuff to me and I’ll call it good. I can be a little bit of a busybody sometimes and everyone’s got a right to their privacy.”

 _Even such as I?_ Loki thought, but didn’t say. Wilson stood up, holding his plate, and stepped around the counter to wash it himself. Loki tensed without meaning to when he got close, but Wilson didn’t comment.

“Hey, listen,” he said, as he soaped up the dish. “Thanks. For your help with the whole Barnes thing.”

Loki blinked, not entirely certain what Wilson meant by that. He nodded, slowly, cautiously. “Of course.”

“Yeah-huh.” Wilson set the plate in the drying rack and turned around, meeting Loki’s eyes. After a moment, he offered a hand. “See you around, Loki. I doubt Steve’s going to stay out of trouble for long. Good to know someone else is watching his back.”

“I don’t think there’s any shortage of eyes on him,” Loki said, but Wilson shook his head.

“Eyes on Captain America, maybe, but people looking out for Steve Rogers? I don’t think there’s ever enough of those.” Wilson took a step back and turned around. “Enjoy the Thai, all right?”

Wilson let himself out. Loki stared at the closed door.

He thought he might like Sam Wilson. Perhaps. Loki wasn’t entirely certain what to make of that.

* * *

Clint Barton did not knock.

He barged in near midafternoon, his jaw set. Loki looked up from his book, deliberately nonchalant, but he was keenly aware of the fact that if Barton wanted to make his life unpleasant he was fairly capable. Loki could return the favor, of course, but the consequences for doing so could well be…disastrous.

“What an unexpected pleasure,” he murmured, not moving from his chair. Barton’s expression twitched, but only minutely.

“Don’t start,” he said, clearly in something of a mood. Loki wondered if it had predated Barton’s being in his presence or was a product of it. “I’m not here to make nice.”

“I didn’t expect that you were.” Loki closed his book, quietly but deliberately. “Which begs the question of why you are.”

“What do you think,” Barton asked, belligerently. “About this whole Barnes-slash-Winter-Soldier thing?”

Whatever Loki had expected, it was not that. He let his eyebrows rise. “You stormed into my rooms to ask me my opinion on a matter that scarcely concerns me?”

“Bullshit,” Barton snapped. “It ‘concerns’ you. It concerns all of us. And definitely you. Or do you seriously expect me to believe it hasn’t crossed your mind that this is Steve’s former best friend back from the dead?”

Loki did not let his jaw twitch and kept his voice as cool and disinterested as he could manage. “I am not entirely certain what kind of answer you are looking for, Barton. As for what this has to do with you…”

“Never mind what it has to do with me,” Barton said, a little too quickly. “Just answer the goddamn question.”

Loki considered. There were a hundred and one ways to answer the question of what he thought. He was not certain he knew which one of them was the truth. He knew which ones he did not wish to share with Clint Barton, even some foolish part of him remembered something oddly like friendship. As though Loki could forget that it had been false. Finally, he said, “I do not think it matters what I think.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Barton said, obviously bitter, and grimaced. “And still not really an answer.”

Loki felt his jaw tighten. “Does it matter to _you_ what I think, Barton?” He asked, a little too sharply.

“On this? Maybe, yeah, since everyone else seems to have lost their minds.” Barton scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Come on. You’re not so attached to Steve that you can’t think your own thoughts, are you?”

He was being baited, and Loki knew it, but his temper was short already. “What are you so concerned about?” he snapped. “That Barnes tried to kill your lover, or that she might find him more interesting than you?”

Barton took a step forward, hands balling into fists, anger flashing across his face. Loki smiled, fey and nasty, wondering if Barton would really try for a fight. He had a feeling Steve would be disappointed, but, well, Steve wasn’t here to be disappointed. (There was something undeniably petty about that thought, but Loki didn’t particularly care.)

Barton visibly restrained himself. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Take pot shots at me because you’re feeling insecure about your boyfriend leaving you, fine. I guess that answers my question.” He sounded disgusted, and turned. Loki felt abruptly petty and small.

“Wait,” he said. Barton actually paused. Loki forced the words out. “I should not have…that was unnecessary.”

“Everything you do is unnecessary,” Barton muttered, but he turned around. “Yeah, no kidding. Is that supposed to be an apology?” Loki just looked at him, refusing to budge more, and Barton shrugged. “Okay, fine. I guess that’s as good as I’m going to get. Whatever.”

“What I said is true,” Loki said, after a moment of silence. Barton’s eyebrows ticked up.

“Which thing you said?”

“That my opinion on this does not matter. I had the opportunity to kill Barnes and I did not. I very much doubt that you will either. Barring that, nothing will change the Captain’s mind.”

Barton’s expression went mulish. “He’s dangerous.”

“Aren’t you?” Loki turned his eyes toward the windows. “I wish he were not here. But I cannot change that.”

“You could have.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “I could have.”

Barton regarded him for a long moment. “Does Steve know?” he asked, bluntly. “That you haven’t really changed. That the only line between you and your crazy is that you’re head over heels for him. Does he get that?”

“No,” Loki said, feeling the corner of his mouth tick up. “He doesn’t. I suppose he will eventually.”

“It’s going to break his heart,” Barton said, ruthless and honest in a way that made Loki want to flinch. “Finding that out about you.”

 _Maybe he doesn’t have to,_ whispered some desperate part of Loki’s heart, but he said nothing, just shrugged. Barton stared at him a moment longer and shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he muttered. “You’re all crazy.”

Loki scoffed. “As though you are not.”

“I’m not.” Barton’s expression went sour. “Whatever, fine. That’s all I wanted to know.”

Loki half smiled. “Whatever you were expecting, I am sorry to disappoint.”

“You almost sound sincere.” Barton blew out a loud breath through his nose and turned around. Loki stayed silent. He had a feeling there was more the man wanted to say.

“I’m never going to forget it,” Barton said, sudden and harsh. “No matter what – the rest of them can get used to you living here and acting like that’s fine, but I’m not ever going to forget and nothing you do is ever going to be enough to make it _okay._ ” There was something in his voice Loki recognized, because he’d heard it in the tenor of his thoughts of late.

_It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be all right. Steve loves you. He won’t leave you._

Loki inclined his head. “I would not expect anything else,” he said evenly. Barton glanced over his shoulder, faint surprise flickering across his expression and then vanishing. After a moment he nodded curtly, and then headed for the door.

“Barton,” Loki called, on impulse. He paused. “Barnes is no threat to you. Or to Romanova.”

“You know that, do you?”

“Yes,” Loki said, with certainty. “I do.”

Barton said nothing for a long moment, just standing with his back to Loki. “Why?” he asked.

 _I just do._ Loki knew Barton would not care for that answer. “Like knows like,” he said, after a moment, the smile that slipped onto his face crooked. “I can read people.” Like I read you.

“Yeah,” Barton said, after a moment. “Maybe.”

He shut the door a little too hard behind him. Loki looked down at the cover of his book and wondered why he’d bothered to say anything. He doubted Barton was convinced.

But it mattered, somehow, that he’d tried. Even if Barton was right and it was just a matter of pretending to be something other than what he was.

It was about what Steve deserved. Nothing else.

* * *

Barnes had apparently asked to see him again.

Loki was not certain why. He accepted, half out of curiosity and half because he thought it would please Steve. Somehow, he seemed to think that Loki and Barnes might be friends of some kind. Or perhaps he hoped it.

Barnes was sitting down in his prison-cum-room when Loki arrived. He stayed where he was, at a distance, and noted that Barnes seemed…better than he had been. Healthier looking, his hair cleaner and his features a little less…hunted. Loki wondered how much of it was genuine.

He was warier this time, too. Loki wondered what had brought that about.

“You wanted to see me,” he said, not bothering with small talk. He doubted either of them was interested in it.

Barnes scrutinized him, and then nodded, shortly. “Yeah. I wanted…first off, you were right. What you said about Captain Rogers.” Loki noted the careful formality, but he also noted the slight hesitation, like Barnes had perhaps almost used another name. For whose benefit was the title, he wondered. “It’s not about me.”

Steve, Loki knew, would be appalled to hear that. He just nodded. “Is that all?”

“No.” Barnes paced a few steps and when he turned to Loki his eyes were sharp. “What did you do?”

Loki blinked. “Pardon?”

“Steve said you did some bad stuff. What did you do?”

Loki felt himself coil tight. “Hoping to compare notes? I attempted to take over your planet. So you see, the Captain’s mercy truly is boundless.” His voice was sharp, cutting, but Barnes didn’t so much as flinch, just sort of looked at him, frowning. “What do you want of me,” he nearly snapped.

“I don’t know.” Barnes sounded honest about that, at least. He paused a moment, and then said, almost awkwardly, “sit down.”

Loki stayed standing. “We are not friends, James Barnes.”

Barnes sat down, and looked up at him. “Why not?”

That took Loki aback, too. He felt his eyes narrow, wondering if this was Steve’s idea – but no, this felt wrong to be Steve’s idea. This was Barnes. “The fact that I tried to kill you isn’t reason enough?”

“I tried to kill Steve. Seems like it must not be as big a deal with you people.” Loki wondered who that was meant to class him with. Barnes shrugged. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me. In some ways that’s…easier than the other people I see. Which is basically…Steve and a few shrinks.” Barnes’s mouth twisted a little.

“And I am an improvement.”

“Maybe.”

Loki stared at Barnes, puzzled, though he tried not to show it on his face. “Do you think it is a matter of similar experience?” he said, finally. “I should think it is clear that I am not you. Far from it.” A great deal worse, for one.

“Yeah,” Barnes said, and fidgeted a little. “But you get it, don’t you?” There was something almost vulnerable in his voice. An exposed wound. Loki wondered if Barnes knew that was like the scent of blood in the water for him, if he was being baited. He decided that was likely not the case. It was merely that all of Barnes was an open wound at the moment, and he could not keep it all concealed.

 _Get what,_ he wanted to ask, but he had a feeling he already knew. The strain of knowing you would never live up to the expectations others placed on you. The weight of knowing that every day was a choice between pretending to be what you were not and losing everything by being what you were.

“Perhaps,” he said, instead of either a yes or a no. Barnes’ gaze sharpened.

“You do,” he said. “That’s why you could say what you did to me. Because you know how it works.”

Loki was poised to snap, poised to lash out. He thought of Steve and pushed it down. “I am not you,” Loki repeated. “And you should be glad of that.”

Barnes’ expression was stubborn, and for a moment Loki wondered if this was a glimpse of the man Steve had known, with a glint of determination in his eyes and mouth tilting just a little toward a mischievous grin. “Come on,” he said. “You’ve already tried to kill me. How much worse can it get?”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll think of something,” Loki said dryly. Barnes let out a bark of laughter and Loki was almost startled, but he supposed that kind of grim, gallows humor suited them both.

It was the thought _Steve will be pleased_ that decided him, though he still waited a moment longer before saying, “I suppose I can humor you.”

“Is that your version of a yes?” It was, Loki thought, all bravado. But it was well executed nonetheless. Others might have been convinced. Loki was just familiar enough with bravado to know it when he heard it.

“It is my version of humoring you,” Loki said dryly. He took a seat and stretched out his legs, trying deliberately to look nonchalant and comfortable. Barnes’ tension, no matter how well masked, beat on him like waves. He didn’t know what he was doing any more than Loki did.

Loki felt a small pang of compassion. A small one only, but it was enough to spur him to summon a deck of cards and begin shuffling them. “Do you know a game called Piquet?”

“Nope,” Barnes said, eyeing the cards. “Why do I get the feeling playing with you is a bad idea?”

“I have no idea,” Loki said placidly, and began laying out the cards. “I’m going to play a completely honest game.” Barnes’s skeptical look intensified. Loki smiled innocently at him. Barnes cracked his knuckles and leaned forward. With the new focus, the awkwardness and unease slipped a little away.

He briefly considered throwing the game, but Loki wasn’t going to go that far.

“All right,” Barnes said, “rules.”

Loki felt a little flicker of anticipation. Maybe it would be…nice. Perhaps. It was possible.

Unlikely, he reminded himself.

(But possible.)

* * *

Loki dreamed of Thor. The two of them playing in a field of yellow grain, and he hid deep in the stalks giggling and ran shrieking when Thor found him, only to be caught in a few steps, caught and held. _Can’t get away from me,_ Thor said, and Loki squirmed and giggled and felt the warm certainty in his chest that what Thor meant was _I’ll find you wherever you are._

He woke up staring at the ceiling, Steve’s breathing slow and deep beside him.

Loki wondered what it was like, for Thor, watching Steve get his shield-brother back. Did it make Thor consider the differences between them, Loki’s choices against the way Barnes had been twisted by his handlers? Was Thor jealous of Steve’s victory as he had admitted to being jealous of the bond between him and Steve?

No, Loki thought bitterly. Of course not. Thor was too _good_ to resent a friend’s fortune. He would never.

He had not, had he? When he had come to speak to Loki, he had been…understanding. Had seemed to mind Loki’s words and offered reassurance. Had it been him, Loki thought, he would have seen a chance to drive a wedge between himself and Steve and then offer himself as comfort, but of course that was not Thor. Thor who had always been better than Loki, braver than Loki, kinder than Loki.

Beloved Thor.

Loki slipped out of bed on silent feet and padded out of the bedroom and then out of his rooms altogether. He took the stairs instead of the elevator and made his way down to where he could feel Thor’s presence like a faint second heartbeat in the same place he could feel magic. Always so close. Too close; that had been the problem.

He let himself in without knocking and found Thor stretched out on a couch with a computer, of all things, in his lap. “Tell me more about the,” he was saying, but despite Loki’s quiet feet his head shot up and his eyes widened as he saw Loki. “Jane,” he said hastily, “can I speak to you further later? I’ve just received an unexpected visitor.”

Loki was tempted to drawl that he could always come back at Jane Foster’s convenience, feeling a slight little pulse of resentment. Instead he simply crossed his arms and waited.

“Is everything okay?” Jane’s voice was tinny, but still clearly audible to him. “Is there trouble?”

“No,” Thor said hastily, and then paused, and added, “I do not think so, anyway?” Loki kept his expression impassive against Thor’s questioning glance, and Thor shook himself and looked away quickly. “No trouble, Jane. Do not worry. You will be splendid tomorrow. I will call – soon, and you can tell me everything about your presentation.”

They exchanged a few quick further goodbyes, and then Thor shut the computer and set it aside, standing. “Loki,” he said, starting to smile. “I am pleased to see you here. Let me get you some ale – or, no, wine? I may have some…”

Loki jerked his head toward the computer. “Why bother with that? Could you not simply fly to wherever she is?”

Thor looked slightly disappointed by the change in subject, and then wary, scrutinizing Loki like there might be some hidden motivation to the question. “Yes,” he said, after a moment. “I could.”

“Why don’t you?” Loki did not bother to make the question anything but a challenge.

“Jane is giving a talk on her work tomorrow,” Thor said. “My arrival would only distract from her cleverness, and this is a very important opportunity for her. I do not want to show her up.” He paused, and added, “and also…I wished to stay nearby. Things have been…”

“Time was you would not have cared if you distracted from anything,” Loki said, striving for lightness but managing only a kind of flat neutrality. Thor gave him a brief look and then glanced away.

“Time was,” Thor said quietly, and Loki almost started at the agreement. “But I am trying not to be that man anymore.”

Loki swallowed and resisted the urge to look away. He took a few more steps inside and sat down on the arm of one of Thor’s chairs without asking before he considered that he might be communicating comfort rather than disregard. He stayed where he was and let the silence stretch. After a few moments, Thor cleared his throat.

“Loki…do not take this the wrong way, but can I ask why you are here? Now?”

Loki felt his mouth twist at the corners, considering his answer. “Do you remember,” he said, slowly, “how I used to come to your room and wake you in the middle of the night to talk at you about whatever puzzle was occupying my mind?”

“Yes,” Thor said, a small smile touching the corners of his mouth, if only very briefly. “I would barely be able to keep my eyes open, but every time I started to go back to sleep you would poke me in the ribs until I sat up again.” He paused. “Is there some puzzle troubling you now?” Thor asked almost hesitantly, as though afraid of refusal. Loki wondered if he _was_ afraid.

“Several,” Loki said, after a moment. “And always.” He breathed out quietly. “Does the offer of ale still stand?”

“Yes,” Thor said, sounding…hesitant. That was wrong too, Loki thought. Thor was never hesitant, was unfailingly sure of himself. That had always been the case. “Of course.” Thor paused, and then added, “It always stands. You are welcome in any home of mine whenever you wish, Loki.”

Thor had not tried to call him _brother_ once in this conversation, Loki realized, and felt a peculiar pang though he told himself it was better that they avoid that matter altogether. Too many dangerous snares, and Loki did not want to fight. Not now.

Instead, he inclined his head and responded with a formal “your welcome is graciously accepted.” Thor seemed to slump a little, but Loki was not sure what other response there was. He was not prepared to offer the same.

He brought two glasses of pale amber beer over, however, and set one down in front of Loki and took a swallow of the other. Loki watched him, cataloguing a thousand small differences. It perturbed him, that Thor could change. Thor was immovable, immutable. That he should be anything else, and somehow Loki had not seen…

He found it unnerving, somehow.

( _If Thor can change,_ some part of his brain whispered, _doesn’t it mean that you can?_ He pushed the thought away.

“You are quiet,” Thor said, finally. Loki looked at him through his eyelashes.

“I should think that would be a relief, given my conversations with you of late.”

“My conversations with you of late have not been…so bad as that.” Thor’s smile was small, but it was still there, and a valiant attempt at something brighter. Loki let his lips quirk and swirled his glass, watching the ale move.

“You’ve changed,” Loki said, and he remembered his fury on the Bifrost, but it felt old, now. Distant and less certain, less pure. He looked at his glass of amber ale and took a quick sip. “That troubles me.”

Thor set his glass down. “Why should it?” he asked. “Have you not as well?” Loki coughed a laugh, and Thor shook his head. “I do not mean – since you have been here.”

Loki huffed a breath through his nose. “Have I? You say that with much confidence, for someone who has hardly spoken with me.”

“Would you deny that I have always known you better than most?” Thor bowed his head. “Perhaps – perhaps not as well as I thought I did, but nonetheless. You smile more easily now, I think, than I have seen you do in years.”

Loki felt a peculiar flutter of uneasy panic in his chest, an almost superstitious thought of _don’t say that, it’ll ruin it._ “What are you driving at?”

 “You keep saying there is no going back,” Thor said quietly. “I have come to agree with you.”

Loki’s blood went cold and he looked up, sharply. “What a relief,” he made himself say. Thor’s gaze on him was earnest, though, focused, not…despairing.

“Nor _should_ we go back. I do not wish to be the arrogant, thoughtless person I was, and I do not think you need be either my shadow or my enemy. I think…” Thor drew himself up. “I think that perhaps we can do better. Be something new, not…not what we were. Better than what we were.”

 _Some facts do not change, Thor. I will always be less than you._ “Better,” he said. “You say that like it is so simple.”

“Can it not be?” Thor pressed.

Loki thought of James Barnes and Steve. Of himself and Steve, himself and Clint Barton. So many tangled threads, and none of it simple. He thought of himself and Thor, all the years between them, all the blood and hate and all the rest that bound them together in a way he couldn’t escape

Loki set his glass down and stood up. “It never is,” he said, and though he meant it to be harsh it came out soft, regretful.

He teleported himself back to his rooms and did not go back to bed, but stayed awake staring out through the windows, breathing slow and evenly.

* * *

Steve returned late in the evening with a bottle of wine in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. The smile he gave Loki was almost sheepish, hesitant. “Sorry I’m so late,” he said. “I stopped to get a few things on the way back. I thought I could make dinner tonight – if you haven’t already eaten, I mean. And if you have, maybe tomorrow…”

Loki kept his face smooth, though he tensed inwardly, wondering if something had gone wrong or if there was some bad news Steve feared to share. “Is there some sort of occasion?” He asked, trying for nonchalance.

“Occasion? No, not really.” Steve seemed taken aback by the question. “Should there be?”

“Not that I know of. I thought I might have forgotten something, for you to have gone to such trouble.” No, Loki thought, the instant he’d said it. No, that had been all wrong. Steve seemed to hear it, brows furrowing, but he shook his head after a moment.

“No,” he said, more firmly. “I just felt like doing something for you.”

 _That simple._ Loki stared at Steve a moment longer, then made himself step back and smile. “Then to answer your unspoken question: no, I have not eaten. I was waiting for you.”

“Oh.” Steve’s cheeks went slightly pink. “Sorry for making you wait. I hope having someone else cook will make up for it.”

“I’m sure it will,” Loki said, letting the corners of his mouth turn up as Steve stepped inside, leaning in to give him a gentle peck on the cheek. “And the thought is certainly appreciated.”

Steve turned his head and kissed Loki on the lips before he stepped back, holding out the wine. “I know it’s not probably the nicest stuff you’ve ever had, but…”

“If you keep fluttering nervously I’m going to begin to suspect you’re up to something,” Loki said lightly. Steve frowned at him.

“I’m not fluttering. I just know…”

“I am not so churlish as to criticize gifts,” Loki said, a little dryly. “Besides, it is the company that matters, is it not?”

Steve smiled a little, looking relieved. “All right. But I still don’t flutter.” He began unpacking things from the grocery bag, laying them out on the counter. “I’m trying making a curry. The website said it was easy, but we’ll see how it goes, just so you’re aware.”

“If you’d like me to help…”

“No,” Steve said firmly. “I’d like you to sit down and relax with a glass of wine. I said I was making dinner for you, so you’re not allowed to help.”

Loki huffed a laugh, mostly to himself, but took a seat at the kitchen counter and began opening the bottle of wine as Steve started slicing the onions. “As you wish, Captain,” he said. Steve threw him a look, but it was accompanied by a smile, and Loki felt himself relax a little. Things might not be as easy between them as they had been before Barnes’ return, but they still… _were._ It was more than he’d feared.

All of this was more than he’d feared. And better than he could have hoped.

“You’re not very good at just letting people do nice things for you, are you,” Steve said, sounding a little rueful. Loki raised his eyebrows.

“Of course I am. I love it when people do nice things for me.”

“If you say so,” Steve said, but he sounded a little dubious. Loki narrowed his eyes at his lowered head, but decided not to pursue that line of conversation.

“How is Barnes?” He asked after a few moments, and watched Steve’s rhythm hitch slightly. He pushed the onions aside and started on a clove of garlic, quiet for a long moment.

“He’s…doing better, I think. It’s hard to say. He talks to me now, but sometimes I think he’s just humoring me.” Steve glanced up, briefly. “This is the first time you’ve brought him up.”

Loki blinked a little. Was it? For him, sometimes it seemed as though Barnes was always there, and he was simply struggling to hold his own. Or it had. Of late…of late, the feeling had been less overwhelming, less frequent. Still there, but it felt less like a threat, perhaps. “Is it?” he said, after a moment, intending to sound casual. Steve looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

“It is.” Steve cleared his throat, then paused in chopping vegetables and set the knife down. “Can I ask you a question?”

Loki raised his eyebrows a fraction. “You only ask that when you think I won’t like the question.”

Steve’s expression went a little wry and rueful. “I guess that’s true. Well – how about if you really don’t like it you don’t have to answer? But I want to…it would help me if you did answer.”

Loki settled back on his heels, attempting to brace for anything. “What is the question?”

Steve set down the knife and turned to face Loki fully. “How are you doing?”

Loki’s mouth felt a little dry. “Do I seem to be doing poorly?”

“No,” Steve said, “But I didn’t ask if you were doing poorly. I asked how you were doing.”

Loki felt the urge to twist under that scrutiny, like a snake in some predator’s jaws, though of course Steve’s eyes were gentle. Perhaps that was the trouble. Something harsher he could push back against, but this kind of concern…

“I know things haven’t been…easy, lately,” Steve said. “And _I_ feel like they’ve gotten better, but I know that doesn’t mean that you do. And I never want you to feel like I’m not there for you.”

“I understand that you have other duties to see to,” Loki said, after a moment. Steve’s lips tightened.

“You’re not a duty at all.”

“I didn’t mean – I know.” The words felt awkward, but they were true. Steve loved him. He’d said so, and then said it again, and it still left Loki a little breathless to remember. “I misspoke.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know if I know how to answer that question,” he said eventually.

“You can just say how you feel,” Steve said quietly.

“You say that as though it is a simple thing.” Loki took a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. “I am…monstrously selfish,” Loki said. He could not look at Steve. “I will always want more. But I know that is unjust of me. I understand that I cannot expect…”

“Loki,” Steve said, and he could hear the pain there and hated it. “You don’t have to make excuses. I asked how you felt.”

“Let me finish,” Loki burst out, and squeezed his eyes closed. “---for all of that, you are still here. Whether I understand it or not, and sometimes I do not care that I do not. I am –I am grateful, Steve Rogers. For all that you are and all that you have done. For me. And I – love you. In the end, that is what matters. That is how I feel.”

Silence followed his words, and for a moment Loki feared he’d done something wrong, but then he heard Steve move and turned just in time to be embraced. Steve kissed him deeply and then drew back just enough to rest their heads together, forehead to forehead.

“You don’t have to be grateful to me,” he said lowly.

“Yes,” Loki said softly. “I do. I thought I had one path to walk. You’ve shown me another one.”

“You chose to take it,” Steve said. _A choice I would never have made if not for you,_ Loki thought, but didn’t say.

“You’ve told me over and over again that you’re not going anywhere,” Loki said, after a moment. “It’s time that I said that neither am I.”

Nothing was ever certain, and even less was ever sure. He knew that better than most. But this…he was going to hang on to this. For as long as he had. Steve deserved that.

Maybe he could deserve it too.


End file.
